A great, brilliant, blinding enigma of a man comes screaming into the literary world; it has happened before, but there's nothing to compare it to now. Nobody has seen you since sometime in the early 1960s - indeed, you appear to be so adverse to the idea of being photographed that you've been known to jump out of 2nd story Mexico City hotels in order to avoid it. Rumors abound about your whereabouts and your goings-on... and yet you think it's okay to do a guest voice on "The Simpsons"? Is this just a game to you? Dare we look down at the footnotes of the text of the Day? Does a Day need to make sense by Day's end?.
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